


Breathing Space

by bluestrawberryiii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam (Voltron) Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Complete, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Shadam, a meteor hit my house and my memories of the past week were completely erased, adashi, but not enough to warrant a graphic depictions of violence, mostly. except for.. you know. the adam thing., some descriptions of like... scars and burns and stuff, this is how last season went right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-27 12:10:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15685167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestrawberryiii/pseuds/bluestrawberryiii
Summary: Rizavi and Griffin’s rovers rolled to a stop, and Adam tried to still the shaking in his hands.Don’t expect anything. Don’t get excited. Don’t, don’t, don’t.And thenhestepped down from the second truck. His hair was white now, and there was a scar across his nose. When he shifted, Adam could see that he was missing an arm. But it washim. It was really, really him, and Adam’s legs were moving almost before he realized it, sending him straight into the arm of his Takashi.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was looking forward to adam for months but it looks like ive just got to do every single god dang thing myself huh
> 
> anyways though i did soft math for this chapter even though its summer so yall better be grateful

The blast hit Adam’s jet on the starboard side, purple fire from the Galra cruisers turning into the more familiar oranges and yellows as it connected. A wave of fire and shrapnel crashed over him, and the top flew off the cockpit, leaving him exposed to the rushing air as his ruined jet hurtled towards the ground.

He sawed through his harness with a piece of twisted metal, the heat from it searing through his gloves and burning his hands as he worked. They were shaking by the time he was free, though whether it was from the blistering heat or the task ahead of him, he wasn’t sure.

Gathering his legs underneath him, Adam took one deep, steadying breath, and jumped.

Wind roared past his helmet, and debris from the jet scraped against his visor and dug into his suit. The main fight was going on far above, though now that his squad was gone, the Galra fighters were swooping lower, towards the Garrison. Adam hoped that his parachute was still alright. He hoped he was too small for the Galra attackers to notice. He hoped, if they did notice, that he looked enough like scrap, or a corpse.

If he wasn’t lucky, he wouldn’t even be that. Twisting around in the air, Adam saw the desert rushing up to greet him at killing speeds: he figured he had a couple minutes, tops. His fingers itched to pull the cord on his parachute, if only to kill the suspense and find out whether he would be living through this or not. But he held off. Pull the cord too soon and the Galra were liable to spot him. Pull it too late, though, and he would be a grease stain on the sand.

He spread out his arms to slow his fall and searched the yellow expanse below him for landmarks, trying to gauge exactly how high up he was. Last he remembered, he’d been about six miles off the ground. He’d lost altitude after being shot down, and he was losing more every second. The parachute would need at least seven hundred feet to open, assuming it hadn’t been burned or punched full of shrapnel. The Galra were staying about a mile off the ground now, which gave him a window of around ten seconds wherein he wouldn’t snap his legs and probably wouldn’t be shot out of the sky.

_ Comforting, _ he thought.

The landscape below was beginning to come into focus, cliffs and valleys revealing themselves out of the sands. How close was he? The cruisers were hovering where he had been, maybe four miles from where he was now, while the fighters wheeled in the sky, rushing to engage the second wave coming out of the Garrison: the MFEs. They’d all been in his class, at one point or another. Adam hoped they fared better than his squadron had.

It was then, looking over at his former students, that a piece from a Galra fighter hit him. He didn’t get a close enough look to figure out what it had once been. All he knew was that it was big, dark, and moving fast. It grazed against his head, knocking his helmet off and sending him into a spin. His glasses were ripped from his face by the wind, and by the time he got himself steadied again, the clear image of the ground he’d seen before had become a vague blur.

Wind cut against his bare eyes and panic caught in his throat; he’d lost track of his descent in the confusion, and now he couldn’t even see how far from the ground he was. Looking back over to the Galra cruisers revealed nothing but a group of dark purple bruises against the blue sky. He could hardly even make out the fighters, small as they were.

In the end, his nerves won out. He pulled the cord, and the familiar jerk of the parachute unfurling successfully had never been so welcome.

Even so, the landscape was coming into focus much too quickly. Had he pulled the chute too late? It was difficult to gauge without his glasses. The cliffs were fuzzy, but so was a book held more than two feet from his face. At this distance, he shouldn’t be able to tell they were cliffs yet.

The closer Adam got to the ground, the clearer it became that he had miscalculated. His right leg jarred against the rock; it connected with a sickening crunch, but at the very least it saved his other leg from the brunt of the impact. He toppled to the ground, a halfhearted wind ruffling the parachute as it sank into the sand next to him. He knew he should remove it, just in case, but he couldn’t muster the energy to do it.

* * *

 

It was pure coincidence that he was found the next day, by a squad of rovers sent out by the Garrison to salvage any scrap from the battle. He woke up a couple days later, burn scars blistering his left hand and feathering along his right side, an assortment of cuts in the process of going away or scarring up, and a deep, sharp pain every time he tried to move his right leg.

“You completely crushed it,” the doctor explained, confirming his suspicions. “You’ve got fractures all the way up to your pelvis. I did my best to make sure it heals right, but…” She grimaced. “It’s likely you’ll have a limp for the rest of your life.”

Oddly enough, it was a relief to hear. A limp was better than an amputation, and either one was better than being dead.

He took on more responsibilities as he healed: whatever paperwork they would give him while he was confined to bed rest, and then running simple errands around the medical wing once he was allowed to move around with supervision. He trailed behind his doctor as she went about her duties, helping her draw blood and bandage wounds. Even after he was deemed well enough to be released, Adam stayed in the medical wing, assisting with whatever he could.

The amount of people that he saw that year as an assistant was disheartening. Cadets coming in with burns much worse than his, or limbs blown clean off by Galra drones. Civilians scavenged from the surrounding city with infected wounds. Scientists with chemical burns and strange reactions to the alien tech they were working with.

“Just a bit longer,” Commander Holt would say to them, on one of his visits. “Voltron is coming.”

Adam hated it when he said that. For years, now, Holt had been telling anyone who would listen that Voltron would come. He understood why Holt said it, of course - his daughter was one of the Paladins. It might have been the only thing keeping him sane, the stubborn insistence that his daughter was still alive.

All Commander Holt’s visits reminded Adam of, though, was that Takashi was a Paladin too… Or he had been, at some point. Adam had never been too clear on that. He’d been there when Commander Holt returned, of course. But as soon as he’d learned that Takashi was still alive, the room had nearly spun out from under him, until he finally had to excuse himself and break down in the privacy of his own room. He’d missed the rest of the briefing.

The first year had been a mixture of excitement, hope, and nagging uncertainty. Was Takashi okay? Did he still love Adam? Did Adam still love him? How would it feel to hold him again, after so long?

But as the months wore into another year, and that one into another, that hope soured into a resigned cynicism. If Voltron hadn’t been defeated by the Galra, it would have been here by now. And even if it did eventually show up, what were the odds that Takashi was still alive? Holt insisted that these Alteans were advanced beyond human comprehending, but would they know how to take care of Takashi if his illness started up? And if he was part of an intergalactic war, there was no guarantee he had even lived long enough for his body to kill him.

Takashi died all over again for Adam that year, and the whispers of Voltron that floated around the Garrison only served to remind Adam, over and over again.  _ Remember, _ they seemed to insist.  _ Remember that the man you love is dead. He’s not coming back. _

When Rizavi called in to report that she and Griffin had found the Paladins of Voltron in the ruins of Plaht City, Adam had to fight down the feeling clawing its way up his chest.  _ He’s dead, _ he reminded himself.  _ Don’t get your hopes up, or you’ll lose him a third time. _

He made his way out to the Garrison entrance, doing his best to walk at a normal pace. Under no circumstances would he even dare to hope to see Takashi. He was here to greet Katie and the other Paladins. Nothing else.

It was sunny outside. The barrier washed everything in a reddish light, as if there was constantly a fire nearby. Rizavi and Griffin’s rovers rolled to a stop, and Adam tried to still the shaking in his hands.  _ Don’t expect anything. Don’t get excited. Don’t, don’t, don’t. _

And then  _ he _ stepped down from the second truck. His hair was white now, and there was a scar across his nose. When he shifted, Adam could see that he was missing an arm. But it was  _ him. _ It was really, really him, and Adam’s legs were moving almost before he realized it, sending him straight into the arm of his Takashi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i looked up how skydiving felt for this chapter and all i got was a buncha people being like "freeing" and "very relaxing :)" and i just feel like that wasnt very applicable here


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im just gonna make it known that writing a fic about adam is actual torture. not because i dont like him, but because i physically cannot stop myself from hearing the adam vine every single time i write his name

It was all Shiro could do to catch him, Adam’s weight unbalancing him enough to send his legs stumbling backwards. His throat blocked up, all his breath gathering together into a hard ball. When he tried to speak, all that came out was a choked “A…?”

Adam’s glasses pressed uncomfortably against Shiro’s chest, the frames pushing just below his collarbone so hard he was certain it would leave a mark. When Adam finally looked up at him, his lenses were so fogged and wet that Shiro could hardly see the honeyed eyes behind them.

“You’re here,” Adam said, his words breaking, and it was so good to hear his voice again after so many long years, Shiro wondered how he’d gone so long without it. “It’s really you.”

Mist filmed over his eyes, and Shiro pulled Adam as close as he could, pressing his forehead into that sandy hair he’d missed so much. “You changed your shampoo,” he mumbled, because that’s all he could think to say.

Adam let out something that was half a laugh, half a sob. “You changed your hair. What happened?”

_ I died, _ he didn’t say. “You know how stressful Keith can be,” he said instead.

“Keith?” Adam pulled away, leaving behind a wet spot where his face had been. It was almost painful, not having him pressed against him anymore. But at least Adam had a grip on his hand still. “Keith is with you?”

“Didn’t Sam tell you?”

“Probably. I missed most of the briefing.” Adam paused, then kept talking, faster now. “Not because I wasn’t interested! It’s just, after I heard about you, and you were alive and all, I just…” He trailed off. “I wasn’t able to concentrate after that.

“So!” He tried to swipe the tears from his cheeks, while also keeping hold of Shiro. It wasn’t working very well. “Where is he? I can’t see anymore.”

Panic gripped at his chest. “You’re blind?” There were scars on his face, now: a big one across the forehead, and feathery burns creeping up his cheek. But Shiro hadn’t thought...

“No, dummy.” Adam gestured to his face. “My glasses are all salty.”

Shiro let out a breath, shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Right. Of course.” He cast a glance around the Garrison entrance. There was Lance, under a pile of aunts and uncles, and Allura and Coran being introduced to some officers by Sam. A bit removed from that group, partly talking to Iverson and partly stealing glances their way every two seconds, was Keith, Kosmo sitting patiently at his heels.

He led Adam over to them. Iverson tactfully wandered over to where the other officers were, leaving Keith and his wolf alone. He had his arms crossed, expression pinched into an uncomfortable mixture of anxiety and barely held-back tears.

When they were face-to-face, Adam frowned, brows scrunching down until they disappeared behind his glasses. “Keith?” He pulled off his glasses, then, scrubbing the salt and fog away with the edge of his shirt. Once he was satisfied, he placed them back on his face and gaped. “You really did grow! And is this... a scar?” His fingers hovered an inch from Keith’s cheek.

“It’s… ah…” Keith lowered his voice. “It’s a birthmark. Sort of. It’s a Galra marking. I’m…” He looked away, rushing the next words like he was tearing off a band-aid. “I’m part Galra.”

“Wait.” Adam squinted. “Like…?” He gestured to the sky, and out towards Plaht City. “You’re…? What?” He looked like he was sifting through fifty other questions, before he settled on the most pressing one. “Is that why you’re taller than me now?”

That did it. The walls around Keith’s expression crumbled, and he swept Adam into a hug. “God, I missed you so much,” he said. “And no, I’m taller because I spent two years in a time pocket.”

“Oh.” Adam shot Shiro a confused look over Keith’s shoulder. It wasn’t like he could explain even a fraction of that situation in such a short span of time, so Shiro just shrugged. “...I see. And the dog?”

“Found him in the time pocket.”

“Of course.” Adam was released from the hug, and he knelt down to examine Kosmo. “He’s pretty cool. Does he have a name yet?” His hand hovered over the wolf’s coat, waiting for permission.

“No. He hasn’t told me yet. And you can pet him. Just don’t ask him to teleport you anywhere.”

“Ah. Okay. Got it.” He reached out to run a hand down Kosmo’s flank, a bit hesitant after the teleportation comment. “I’m glad you’re both okay,” he murmured, after a while. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Shiro said. It was an understatement. All those years away, there had been an aching in his chest, so constant that after a while he’d forgotten what it was there for. But now he was back, and the ache was greater than ever, every part of him singing:  _ Adam, Adam, Adam. _

* * *

 

They walked to the briefing room together, trailing behind everyone else, arms intertwined and shoulders pressed together.

“So, the dog really doesn’t have a name.”

“The rest of us are calling him Kosmo,” Shiro said. “But don’t let Keith hear you say it.”

Adam hummed in response. It clearly wasn’t what was actually on his mind. Shiro could feel the tension in his shoulders as the question built up. He waited.

“What happened to your arm?” Adam finally asked.

He should have expected that. “I lost it,” he said.

“Really? And here I thought it just fell off.” His tone was sarcastic, but not biting.

Shiro smiled, a little wearily. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you after the debriefing.”

“Promise?”

He held the door open for Adam. They were the last ones in. “Promise,” he said.

They sat at the front of the table, between Pidge and Keith, who had obviously conspired to save two seats next to each other. It was daunting, hearing how far Earth had fallen since they’d been gone. But the feeling of Adam so near, his leg brushing up against Shiro’s so casually, as if it weren’t the best feeling in the world, overshadowed the dread building in his stomach. Lots of things were bad right now. But Adam was here, right now, with him. And that was something that all the bad in the world couldn’t touch.

After the debriefing, they retreated to Adam’s quarters.

“What happened to our old room?”

“I asked for a new one. After… you know.”

Shiro didn’t know, not exactly. After he’d left for Kerberos? After he’d been announced dead? After Keith dropped out? He lowered himself down onto the couch, deciding it wasn’t all that important.

Adam joined him, legs laying comfortably over Shiro’s. One of them moved strangely, Shiro had noticed. He nodded towards it. “What happened there?”

“Hm? Oh. I jumped out of a plane.”

Shiro’s brows raised. “How’d that go?”

“Badly.” Adam brought his good leg up to kick him. “Don’t change the subject. You’re supposed to be telling me about your arm.”

So he did. He told Adam about the Druids’ experiments, the cloning project, and his eventual confrontation with Keith that led to him losing most of his prosthetic arm.

Adam stayed quiet throughout the whole thing, nodding along and keeping his expression neutral. It was torture, trying to gauge how he was feeling. Sure, Adam had been excited to see him at first. But he had also left him because he couldn’t bear seeing Shiro putting himself in danger. And now here Shiro was, scarred and white-haired and missing an entire arm, telling Adam that his fears about Shiro dying in space had been not only reasonable, but also entirely correct.

“So, that’s what happened with my arm,” he concluded. He studied Adam’s expression as he mulled over all the information.

“Well...” Adam finally said, trailing off thoughtfully. Shiro’s heart leapt in anticipation. “...that was a lot more complicated than I thought it’d be.”

It wasn’t quite the answer Shiro was looking for. The voice in his head told him it was a polite dismissal, while every fiber of his being vibrated with the desperate need for that voice to be wrong. “Are we still…” His throat had gone dry, and his voice came out a bit husky. “Are we good?”

Adam blinked. “What?”

“You said if I went on the Kerberos mission, that we were through. I went. And I died, exactly like you said I would, and I just… I did everything completely wrong.” The words wouldn’t stop spilling out. He tried to stop himself, because heaven knew Adam didn’t need to be reminded of all the reasons he should leave him,  _ again. _ “I’d understand if you don’t…”

“If I don’t what?” Adam crossed his arms. “Takashi, I was shot out of the sky and nearly died. The whole planet is overrun by alien warlords. My students are out there, flying alien tech and getting killed on missions. We are all in danger, every single second. It would be stupid to get worked up over something as trivial as you literally dying in space.” He cracked a wan smile, then leaned forward, hand cupping Shiro’s cheek. It was rougher than it had been, and it took Shiro a moment to realize why: Adam’s palm was covered in burn scars. “I already lost you, Takashi. Twice. This time, I’m not letting you go.”

Shiro brought his remaining hand up to cover Adam’s, feeling its warmth and remembering all the times they’d done just this, back before everything had gone to hell.

He shifted so that he could press a kiss to the warped skin of Adam’s palm, and smiled.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this chapter, i realized that id never actually written a character with glasses. like ive written characters that HAVE glasses, but ive never been able to really dig deep into those #justglassesproblems. its amazing. is this what writing about things you understand feels like? i feel so powerful. i can just say things and know theyre right. absolutely intoxicating.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait!! and sorry for anybody that wanted this to be the last chapter! i just thought it worked better as two u_u;;
> 
> im gonna be busy with work/moving over the next few days so the last chapter might not be up for a little while, but im gonna get it out as soon as i can!!

Takashi tried very hard in the following days, it seemed, to go back on that promise. Especially when he jumped out of the Atlas, got into a mano a mano duel against Sendak himself, and then, immediately afterwards, decided he was going to stumble all the way from the medbay back to the command station. Adam trailed behind him, nearly reaching out to grip his arm before he remembered that this new Altean arm was half air. He huffed in frustration.

“Takashi, you’re hurt. You need to rest!”

A blast rocked the Atlas, throwing Takashi off his fragile balance. He gripped his floating arm against a doorframe to steady himself, metal fingers digging in so hard the frame dented. Adam took the opportunity to catch up and latch onto his other arm. Takashi turned to him. “I’m in command of the Atlas,” he said, dark eyes pleading. “Adam, they  _ need _ me.”

He could stop Takashi right here. He was hurt; he could hardly stand, for Christ’s sake. It would be relatively easy to drag him back to his bed and keep him there. But there was an edge to his voice, a desperation around the eyes that stopped Adam.

Finally, he relented. “Fine,” he said. He kept his grip on Takashi’s arm. “But I’m coming with you. And if they look like they have it under control, you’re coming back with me.”

Takashi nodded. “Deal.”

“And no more jumping into space.”

He chuckled. “Deal.”

To Adam’s dismay, the bridge was in chaos when they arrived. Within seconds, Takashi was calling out commands, reigning everyone in with a few words.

“Oh, thank the ancients you’re here,” said the red-haired Altean, Coran, amidst a sudden flow of updates on their status as everyone on the bridge fell back into line in Takashi’s presence.

Accepting that he’d lost this one, Adam pressed himself against the far wall in an attempt to stay out of the way. He could have gone back to his post, he supposed. But that would mean leaving Takashi, and that just wasn’t something he was willing to do.

So instead, he watched. Pride welled in his chest watching his Takashi take command of an entire battleship, as if the position had been made for him. He’d changed, and not just physically. He was stronger now, more solid, like his spine was made of steel, and it shone through in every command he gave, his white hair and drawn brows washed in the bridge’s orange light.

And then all at once, things went south. It was after they thought they’d won, after that new mech appeared and began attacking Voltron. A blast from the mech dislodged Adam from his place, sending him tumbling forward. Takashi caught him with his organic arm and held him steady, sparing Adam a quick scan for injuries before turning back to focus on the situation.

“Canons are still offline!” Iverson was calling from his post.

“It’s charging up for another attack!”

“Shields are offline. Sir, what are your orders?”

All around the control room, cries of alarm and demands for direction bounced off each other, melding into a cacophonous wall of sound whirling around them. Takashi’s arm tightened around Adam. He looked up at him, and found his eyes in a thousand-mile stare out the windows.

He came back to himself in a sudden rush. “Bring us up. Set coordinates to upper atmosphere.”

Coran turned around, shocked. “But Voltron…!”

“Commander Holt,” Takashi said, commands spilling in a rush over Coran’s words. “I need all the power we’ve got.”

“Copy that,” Holt said, and they began to rise into the air.

Takashi closed his eyes, jaw tight as if he were trying to pick out a sound from two rooms away. His Altean prosthetic began to glow a brighter blue than before, the light seeping from his metal fingertips, down into the control panel, spreading throughout the bridge and out into the hallway.

“Takashi…?” Adam murmured, shifting in his arm to watch the pulsing lights surround them.

The engines picked up a moment later, speeding their ascent, and the displays in the bridge switched to show a new image: a mech, different from either of the two currently battling on the surface. Takashi’s eyes shot wide open, as if waking from a deep sleep. “Atlas crew,” he said, brows falling into a determined line. His arm wrapped more securely around Adam’s waist, pulling them close together. “Hold tight.”

Metal ground against metal somewhere behind them, a constant steely screech that sounded like the Atlas was being torn apart.

“Takashi?!” he asked, a little more urgently now. Something had covered the windows, flashing blue, black, blue, black, blue, black, all while the ship screeched and pitched, threatening to throw Adam like a ragdoll.

And then the shifting stopped, and he could see out of the bridge windows again just in time for them to drop out of the sky.

They slammed into the earth long before they should have, the viewports bobbing down and then back up almost organically. Almost like…

“We’re in a robot,” he realized, glancing at the mech on display in front of them.  _ Their _ mech. “A giant fucking robot.”

Takashi grinned at him, a wild look in his eye. He looked so elated, so  _ alive, _ that for a moment, Adam forgot to be confused, an uncanny laugh bubbling from him. “We’re in a giant fucking robot,” Takashi agreed. Then he turned away again, facing the rest of the stunned crew. “Alright, Atlas,” he said. “Let’s go save Voltron!”

Commanding a giant mech suited Takeshi even better than a battleship, if that was even possible. It was probably because he’d spent so long with Voltron, Adam thought distantly, watching the fight rage outside the windows as if it were some strange movie he was watching. Takashi called out orders, the bridge swaying dangerously every time the Atlas moved.

The enemy mech disappeared for a moment, and then the whole ship jerked forward under the impact of something landing on its back. The Atlas shuddered, lights flickering. Takashi grunted and slumped over. Adam caught him before they both went down under his weight. The light in his arm was guttering in time with the bridge lights.

“Power levels dropping,” Iverson reported from off to the left. “Fast.”

“Shields offline again,” Veronica added. “What’s happening?”

Adam was wondering the same thing. He shot a concerned look at Takashi, leaning against him, his breath teetering on the edge of ragged.

“They’re draining us,” he finally grunted, lights flashing over him. “Whoever is piloting that mech is sapping the energy out of Atlas.”

_ What do we do? _ was what Adam was about to ask. But then Voltron solved the problem for them. There was a flash of bright metal outside of the bridge for a split second, and moments later the lights stopped flashing. They settled on a wan half-hue instead, while, outside, Voltron crashed down on top of the enemy mech, a giant blade pressed into its breast. The mech shuddered, then lay still. Takashi let out a shaky breath, his Altean hand finally slipping from the control panel to rest at his side. Adam readjusted his arm so that he was easier to lean on. “You did it,” he said, a quiet congratulation just for the two of them.

Takashi gave him a tired smile, but it was cut short by Coran. “I’m getting strange energy readings from that mech. It looks like it’s going to self-destruct!”

Takashi swore, pulling away from Adam. His hands flew over the command center before he leaned back and groaned. “Atlas won’t be flying for a while.” He pressed a button at the control panel. “Keith, are you getting this?”

“Pidge picked it up,” he said, his voice coming through the speakers slightly crackled. “We’re taking care of it.”

Even as he said it, the lions were picking themselves up from where they lay, wedging under the sharp gray limbs of the fallen mech and beginning to lift.

The entire bridge watched with bated breath as the mech was pulled up, up, up into the atmosphere, and then beyond that.

And then it exploded.

It was what they’d known it would do, but that didn’t stop everyone from taking a collective gasp. Soon after, the lions fell lifeless back down to earth. Veronica had her hands over her mouth, wide eyes tracking the red lion. Commander Holt was frozen to the spot. But Takashi was already out the door, Adam close on his tail.

Keith had fallen the closest to them, the Black Lion leaving a crater directly in front of the Atlas. They were there within minutes, Takashi prying open the lion’s jaws with his metal arm while Adam slipped through the opening.

He found his way to the cockpit easily enough. Keith’s form was slumped over in the chair. His stillness made Adam tense with nerves. He picked his way forward, trying to ignore the voice in his head telling him to expect the worst. Slowly, gently, he put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, pulling him upwards until Adam could see his face.

Breath fogged against Keith’s helmet and Adam let out a sharp breath of relief. “Oh, thank god,” he murmured, working at freeing Keith from his harness. “He’s alright, Takashi!” he cried. “I’ll have him out in a second!”

Keith finally stirred while Adam was lifting him from his seat. “Did we do it?” he asked, voice croaking.

They walked towards the exit together, Keith leaning heavily on Adam’s shoulders. “You sure did, kiddo.”

Keith gave him a weak sneer. “Don’t call me that.” It was half hearted, though.

Takashi was on the phone when they crawled back out of the mouth. “Get a team out to the ocean for the Blue Lion,” he was saying. “And make sure you get the Paladins back to the medbay as soon as possible. Yes. Thank you.” His eye caught on them. “I have to go.” He hung up and rushed towards them, wrapping them both in a tight hug. Adam got the mechanical arm this time.

It was a bit strange to have only half an arm hugging him, the metal unexpectedly warm against his back, but at least he didn’t have to worry about where his arm would fit. He settled for just above the glowing shoulder socket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i fudged some details on that fight scene there but look..... listen here... i wrote this at 1am........... any differences in the details of this fight are now officially chalked up to the butterfly effect. i pulled adam w from the fiery jaws of death and by golly thats bound to change a couple things


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter for real this time!!

Rebuilding took time. Shiro was promoted to Admiral in Sanda’s place, and for the next few months, all he and Adam got together were brief stolen moments: a quick kiss after a meeting, a tender smile while passing in the hall, a tired embrace before collapsing into bed. There was just so much work to be done, between organizing the alien workforce flooding the streets and getting doctors to every part of the globe they could, that they hardly had time for themselves. When he wasn’t busy with the patients at the Garrison, Adam spent a lot of time away on calls. And while Shiro knew it was important work, knew that it was  _ safe _ work, that didn’t stop him from wanting him back.

“He’s fine,” Keith would tell him, every time, without fail. “He said he’ll be back in a week. Stop being a little old lady about it.”

“I’m not being a little old lady,” Shiro would grumble. Then, that night, like every night, he would call Adam again. Just to make sure he was okay.

It was always something different on those calls, yet entirely the same: “There’s been a new virus outbreak in Mexico; I’ve been vaccinating people all day. But I’ll be back soon. I love you.” “I helped with a surgery today! It got a little bloody, but she made it out okay. I’ll see you soon. I love you.” “Some of the patients’ wounds got infected. We didn’t get there in time.” A sigh. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you.”

And every time, without fail, Adam would return. Shiro would find him waiting outside of a meeting hall, or just past the training grounds, or reading on their couch. And every time, Shiro would gather him in his arms, and they would spend however much time they had that day with each other: a cup of coffee before Adam’s night shift, a shared sandwich for lunch, or, if they were lucky, an entire evening just to themselves.

As the year wore on, their schedules fell into a steady rhythm. No more emergency meetings for Shiro, no more surprise trips pulling Adam away to deal with some far-off crisis. For the first time in years, they could sit comfortably together, watching a movie or talking or just sitting quietly, content in the knowledge that this wasn’t the first time or the last time. It was just one of many, many evenings spread out ahead of them.

That night, they were sitting on the couch. Adam had a book in one hand, his legs slung over Shiro’s. Shiro had gotten ahold of the other hand - the burned one - absently tracing the bumps and wrinkles in the mangled skin of Adam’s palm.

“You never told me how you got this one,” Shiro said, quietly. Even after all these years, the skin wasn’t entirely back to its old color.

“Hm?” Adam looked up from his book. “Oh, that. I got it from the same stunt as this.” He lifted up his right leg. “This too, actually.” He gestured to the white line of a scar running across his forehead.

One of Shiro’s hands found its way to the scar. It hardly felt any different from the surrounding skin when he brushed his thumb against it. “During the invasion, right?”

“Yeah. I had to use some metal to cut through my harness.” He set down the book, tracing a line across the bridge of Shiro’s nose. “What about this?”

“Got it in the arena.” Adam’s breath caught slightly, so Shiro gave him a small smile, attempting to lighten the mood. “But you should’ve seen the other guy.”

The tension left Adam’s body, and he let out a soft chuckle. His hands closed around Shiro’s, a gentle warmth. The pads of his fingers ran over the Altean metal. “I’m glad you came back to me,” he finally said.

“I’m glad you were still here.” Adam’s parting words before he left for Kerberos had haunted him up in space, a constant worry that nagged at him like a broken record. The fact that Shiro was still able to have him here, now, could still have the same quiet evenings they’d had before Kerberos, was staggering. Sometimes he couldn’t quite believe it. Some nights, lying in their bed next to Adam, even after a year of peace, he half-expected he would fall asleep and wake up alone, back in the Castle or another Galra prison.

He gripped Adam’s hands, shifting close enough that he could feel his breath, see the rise and fall of his chest.  _ This is real, _ he reminded himself.

They stayed that way for a while, hands tangled, legs laid one on top of the other, shoulders pressed together.

Adam broke the silence. “Let’s get married.”

Shiro blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” He bumped against Shiro’s shoulder. “Let’s get married. I’ve still got my old ring.”

“I… I lost mine.” He held up his bare finger. “I guess the Galra didn’t think to give all their clones engagement rings.”

“Pretty inconsiderate of them.” Adam shifted closer, pulling Shiro’s left hand up to consider his ring finger. “It’s okay. We can get a new one tomorrow.” A thought flashed over his features, and his hands froze. “That is… only if you want to. I know a lot has changed, and I can’t expect you to feel the same way, especially after the way I acted -”

“Adam.” He brought up his hand, turning Adam’s honey eyes to meet his own. “You did what you thought was best. And you’re right, a lot has changed since I left for Kerberos.” He rubbed his thumb over Adam’s knuckles. “But… that’s not all bad. We’re both still here. And if you want to look for rings tomorrow, then I would love to join you.”

“Is…” Adam squinted at him. “Is that a yes?”

Shiro broke into a helpless smile. “That’s a yes.”

“That’s a yes,” Adam repeated. He looked to be processing the information carefully, just like he had when Shiro had proposed eight years ago. “That’s a yes,” he said again, face falling into a relieved grin. He threw his arms around Shiro’s neck and pressed a kiss to his lips, uncoordinated and quick. He pulled away. “I… I’m just -” It was rare for Shiro to see Adam at a loss for words. He couldn’t stop smiling. “I…” Adam took a moment to compose himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, his smile was more controlled than before, but no less happy. “I’m glad to be engaged to you again.”

Shiro leaned in to kiss him, then; a proper kiss that pulled Adam all the way against him, hands fitting perfectly against the small of his back, the nape of his neck. The scent of his new shampoo wreathed around them, and Shiro breathed it in along with the rest of him.

He’d left a whole world behind when he decided to go to Kerberos. But of all the millions of things Earth had to offer, this was what he’d missed the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it occurred to me that not a lot of kay jewelers probably survived the apocalypse. so like when adam says theyre looking, he really means LOOKING. this is an all-day quest kind of deal. you think those alien vendors in the streets have human wedding rings? you wont know until you check literally every single one!!
> 
> anyways guys thanks for stickin with me on this one. its been a lot of firsts (first finished multichapter, first marriage proposal, first fix-it, etc), and im so grateful for the support youve all given me along the way! when i started this, it was because i needed a constructive way to deal with all the Adam Disappointment™ left over from s7. obviously, i was far from the only one, and im glad that so many of you felt that this fic helped you deal with your own s7 feelings! i had a lot of fun writing this and reading your comments guys. thank u and i would die for every single one of you


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